I Know Where You Sleep
by skysedge
Summary: Welcome to the twisted mind of Jizabel Disraeli. Cassian has left and Jizabel has taken to slicing up corpses for stress relief. Things are about to change..someone knows how his mind works and knows where to find him. JizabelxCassian oneshot.


**Hip hip hooray, is my first Jizabel fic! I was going to update one of my Riff/Cain stories but…felt more twisted. Welcome to my attempt to get inside the doctors head. You might not think so, but I think I did quite well. **

**This is a songfic and the lyrics are used as a letter and are shown in italics. The song is I Know Where You Sleep by Emilie Autumn. Amazing. Kaori Yuki owns Godchild. So…nothing but the strangeness is mine. **

**-**

I know the illness behind the image that you create 

_I know the tedious need to turn all you love into hate_

_You poor, pathetic paranoid_

_Is it just me, or do you secretly enjoy it?_

Jizabel smiled as the scalpel clasped in his slender hand cut into the pale flesh before him. It was the only thing that could make him smile now, and it wasn't even the action itself that brought pleasure; it was the images in his mind. It had been this way ever since the only person to ever break through his defences had left him…

No. Mustn't think about that. It won't help. Focus on the scalpel. Focus on the warmth of the blood. Focus on the death. Focus on the letters…

The letters. That was another thing that cheered him up no end. He sliced another hole in the body before him and thought of those letters and smiled. It had been a while since someone had threatened his life s seriously and this made him deliriously happy. Jizabel didn't understand why people said feeling suicidal was a bad thing; he hadn't had this much fun in years.

The truth was, he was sick. Sick in the head. Sick in the heart. Sick right down to the bone; sick of the pain, the lies, the lost hopes, the uncaring people around him and his own twisted self. He wanted to die. Simply taking his own life was too easy…and he could only do it once.

So, Jizabel sliced into the flesh in front of him and imagined the blade was sinking into his wrist. The blood helped to make the image crystal clear. He smiled again. Truly, this was heaven, or the closest he would ever get.

He would never know the heaven of a family's loving care, or the heaven of a soul mate. The word made him sick. He had believed in soul mates once, for all of a day. Then the object of his growing adoration had…but no. Better not feel angry. It wasn't his fault after all. Which made it all the more…

No. Mustn't think about that. I won't help. Focus on the letters. The letters… 

The wording was simple yet crude and somewhat disturbing. Jizabel doubted the truth in them but still, it was amusing and flattering that _someone_ cared whether he lied or die, even if they preferred the dying. The letters were always the same and read as follows:

_I know your tainted flesh_

_I know your filthy soul_

_I know the tricks you played_

_Whores you laid_

_Dreams you stole_

_I know the bed in the room in the wall _

_In the house where you took what you wanted and ruined it all_

_I know the secrets you keep_

_I know where you sleep._

He hoped this was the truth. Someone else to put him out of this misery would be wonderful. The cardmaster had noticed and he would probably…dispose of Jizabel before too long. He was useless. Death… Jizabel laughed. Wasn't it ironic that Death could not even bring it unto himself?

The last of the blood had dripped from the corpse and Jizabel pushed it to one side. He took the mask off, untied his hair and then left the room. Someone else could clear up his mess. He marched straight t his bed and lay down, trying to savour the images he had created before falling asleep. Sleep would only bring…him.

_Mustn't think that way_ Jizabel desperately thought before falling asleep.

He was awakened suddenly by a hand clamping over his mouth. Someone strong, a lot stronger than himself, pulled him up and slammed him against the wall. One hand wrapped around his throat and Jizabel didn't struggle. He went limp and let his mind sit back and watch the show. That is until the moonlit assailant spoke. He recognised the voice but didn't know where from…his sleep addled brain wouldn't tell him.

"I know your tainted flesh." The attacker whispered, removing the hand from Jizabel's mouth and running it along one of his arms where faint scars glowed in the light.

"I know your filthy soul." He ran a hand through Jizabel's hair almost tenderly before pulling on the strands and pulling his head backwards. Cold lips pressed against his neck and the figure spoke again, his voice laced with bitterness.

"I know the tricks you played, whores you laid, dreams you stole."

There was a sound like a chocked sob. Something in Jizabel's brain was trying to make him cry, after so long.

"I know the secrets you keep." The figure murmured and let go of his vice like grip on Jizabel's hair. Cold lips hovered above Jizabel's own and grazed them as the assailant spoke. "I know where you sleep."

Suddenly, everything was clear in Jizabel's mind. Without moving himself, the world moved for him. Everything made sense, everything was perfect, the pain was meaningless and it all came down to the one thing that had ruined it all…

"_Cassian?"_ he murmured incredulously. There was no reply, only an almost bruising kiss forced upon his lips. Jizabel gasped in surprise and the sound was swallowed by the assailant who Jizabel knew could be no one other than Cassian; who else had ever shown him tenderness? Why did the kiss hurt almost as much as the scalpel?

"You have to let yourself feel, Jizabel." Cassian whispered. "And you can't do that here. Will you come with me? There's so much…so much that needs to be said and done."

"But I-"

"Don't you dare tell me that you're sick. I know that's what you're thinking. The only thing sick about you Is the way you think of yourself. Come with me and I will _show_ you that you're as beautiful as anyone else. _More_ beautiful than anyone else…to me. Let me look after you. _Let me love you._"

Jizabel could do nothing but nod. Cassian took his hand and slowly led him out of the complex into the waiting night. As the night swallowed them, Jizabel could feel something changing. He couldn't tell Cassian that he loved him, he couldn't even think that yet…but the potential was there.

As they walked together into the night, Jizabel found another image in his mind, much like when he had been mutilating the corpse and seeing his own pain. Instead this time, he saw trees and flowers and sunlight, warmth under a blue sky and the feeling of trust…the night became their garden and the night swallowed them.

-

**Reviews would be greatly appreciated. I do love me some Jizabel Cassian love. Sorryll xx**


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